Reminiscence and Reunion
by yujuh7
Summary: The story takes place after Pitch gets trapped in the underground again at the end of the movie. This is my version of the ending, using Pitch's history from The Guardians of Childhood book series. Rated T for later content. This is my first fanfiction, so please comment!
1. Chapter 1

Hi! It's my first time writing a fan fiction, so I hope you like it! I haven't read the book series _The Guardians of Childhood_, but I read about how Pitch became the Boogeyman in the Internet, and it made me pity him even more than just after seeing the movie. So, I wanted to give him a happy ending, and this is it!

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Chapter 1

After being carried in the whirlwind of his nightmares, Pitch got dragged across the frozen ground and entered his cave. The black sand crashed and thrust itself against the rough walls of the cave, knocking him from all sides. The nightmares threw him, splattering him on the floor. He groaned slightly. Dust and dir covered his robe, torn to show his pale grey skin. His face became tattered and rugged like a coarse grain. The usually well-kept hair was shabby, strands of hair bouncing out-of-order. Coughing, he wearily grabbed the ground, barely supporting himself. Clenching his teeth, he stood up, leaning against the cold dark walls. Breathing heavily, he calmly straightened his robe with his shaking hands. He watched as the shadows from behind him sneaked along his hands and slithered down to the torn areas of his robe, patching his robe until it looked new again. Turning his dismissive eyes away, he ran his long slim fingers through his hair and neatly smoothed his hair out. He looked up as a small opening cracked in the ceiling. The moonlight shined upon the cold dark cave, creating layers of shadow and life. The Moon revealed itself.

Pitch glared up at the Moon, and then burst out into laughter. He sighed in a pathetic tone. He seethed, "Are you satisfied, now that you used _me_ to make people realize what happiness is?" He dramatically put his hand on his chest with wide distressed eyes. He chuckled after his short farcical play.

Immediately, his face fell, only his gleaming eyes visible through the dark face. "Why do you waste so much time and energy with those ignorant brats? No matter how many times you use fear to make them realize the true value of happiness, they will never learn! Yet, you still choose to manipulate their minds with your little trickery, the parade of the fools! And for _every single time_, I help you with your grand show! You tricked me to side with you so that you could _use_ me only as your tool! Until when, _when_ must I suffer hatred and loneliness because of you?" He glared up at the Moon. "You are useless! You are the only reason for _my_ misery! You- !" His voice broke, but there was not a trace of single drop of tear. Instead, the defiant scowl from his eyes bore through the Moon.

The Moon replied, "Who are you?"

The fire in his eyes disappeared. He casted his eyes down and turned his back toward the Moon. He closed his eyes and slowly formed his words. He whispered, "You have asked, _said_, those words, _only_ those words, to me for _centuries_. I cannot remember any other words coming from you."

Frowning, he shouted, "And every time, the question…the _question_! The question is always left without an answer, an echo without a reply. I repeatedly asked myself the question, but my answers never satisfy you! I am the Boogeyman! I am the Fear that lies in every human's heart! I am the darkness! I am the reason those weaklings cringe in the corner during the darkest hours! I am Pitch Black! What would I be without that? I have always existed with this clothe, this dark cave, these cages, these cold walls, and these shadows! The shadows enshroud me, live and breathe within me!" He panted, and catching his breath, he murmured, "Without them, I am nothing. I am no one. They are the only things that ever see me… Who _am_ I?"

Pitch's eyes locked on the Moon desperately, begging for mercy, but the Moon only shone down passively. He shut his eyes firmly, clenching his fists. He turned back, his robe sweeping behind.

The Moon responded, "You never lose your power."

Pitch froze. He whipped back and pointed at the Moon. "What? Never lose my power? _Never?_ How can you be so ignorant! You are the one who always takes my powers away even after I serve you!"

The Moon echoed, "You never lose your power."

Stunned, Pitch dropped his hand and remained quiet. He stared at the Moon with a slight frown. Looking away, his eyes fidgeted. Slowly, his eyes grew wide with genuine sparkle. His mouth opened slightly. "You're right. Numerous times I've been dragged to this place after battles, but I never really completely lost my power. Tiny, but it is still there. That's how I was always able to come back up to the world. And my powers, my powers are _only_ based upon belief! Even you can't take it away from me as long as there is one person that believes in me!" He laughed, "Even now, I still have my powers! See! Look! I can still control my shadows!" A black intricate whirl twirled from the ground, a black rose blossoming in the end. His eyes narrowed. "This means that right now, there is at least one person who believes in me right now, this instant! I must find the person!"

The Moon stepped aside, letting a long thin shadow to form in the crack. Grinning widely, he dissolved into the shadow and slipped to the surface. The crack immediately closed after him. Forming one nightmare, he steered it toward where the smell of fear was coming from. With a shrill whine, the nightmare took off, flying and sweeping through the icy cold wind. Pitch leaned forward, staring only straight forward. The Moon hid behind the cloud, allowing the darkness to hide their form. They galloped through the dark into a remote countryside in England.

As soon as the nightmare set its hooves on the ground, the nightmare dispersed into the air and Pitch collapsed. Lifting his eyes from the ground, he saw an old building with a large rusty iron gate that read "The Home for Orphans of Cotswold". The building was worn down with weariness. The laggard wooden plank dragged its arm with low melancholy whistle. The torn off paints shuddered in the cold wind. The windows were crooked, hinges barely hanging on. Cold darkness whispered between the old cracks in the wall.

Groaning, he let his head fall onto the ground with a soft thump. He hugged the warm soil that even the cold wind could not touch. His hand shook, clawing feebly at the soil. His heart quickened at his endless attempts to move. Taking in a quick sharp breath, he gritted his teeth and finally sat up, his arms bristling. He released his breath and stared hard at the building. All of the windows were black, except for one. A feeble light reflected one window, a sphere of light constantly moving across the wall. With a slight nod, he vanished into his own shadow. He reappeared in front of a small bed in a room, leaning heavily on the wall. The room was lined with beds with young children sound asleep, except for one.

A little girl huddled against the bed plank, clutching to her worn thin blanket. There was an exhausted flashlight in her tiny hands. The lights darted here and there, and then it suddenly stopped. The weak light circled on his feet. Both his gaze and her eyes focused on the two black feet. Turning his gaze to her frightened face, he slipped his feet away from the light. Her eyes grew wide. The light immediately flitted again. This time, it landed on his golden eyes. Both froze. The light started to rattle and flutter. He quirked a smile and softly chuckled, "I guess I found the right person."

She gulped. Holding the flashlight tightly with her both hands, she slightly leaned forward, her eyes intently looking into his golden eyes. A small cringe formed in his forehead and he scanned the little girl. The small girl was about six or seven years old. She was wearing a frail white dress and a worn grey cardigan. Her fingernails were blue from the cold, but her face bloomed with healthy pale white, full of life and light. Her steadfast eyes were golden-yellow. The flowing and vibrant black hair lined along her high cheek bones. He tore his gaze away from her and coughed. From the corners of his eyes, he saw the little girl was still staring right into him. Licking her lips nervously, she whispered, "Pitch? Pitch Black?"

He remained quiet, looking at her eyes again. He gave a silent nod, his eyes never leaving her face. The girl cracked a sad smile. She climbed to the other end of the bed, closer to Pitch, and sat cross-legged. Both stared at each other, one with odd amusement and the other with curiosity. She opened her mouth, but closed it and frowned. Then, lifting her eyebrows into a high arch, she asked, "Why are you here?"

"What is your name?"

The girl looked back at him with only one eyebrow arched. Cocking her head, she questioned, "Why aren't you answering my question? It's not that hard to answer."

He smiled, and with his smooth calm voice, he answered, "I will answer your question once you answer mine."

She gave a delightful peal of laughter and her eyes smiled up to him. "Pitch, you never keep a promise. But whatever, I'll go along with your game. My name is Kostusia Pitchiner. My first name Kostusia is Latin and it means steadfast. Pretty cool name, huh?"

He let out a breath of mirth, looking at the girl with light in his eyes. Crossing his arm across his chest, he mumbled, "Kostusia Pitchiner… What an odd resonance…"

The girl held up her finger and tooted, "Promise is a promise. Now hurry up and answer _my_ question, please."

Frowning, he blankly articulated, "I was about _to_ until your impatient mouth babbled. Furthermore, I _do_ keep my promise, little girl." She looked at him with small frown and a corner of her mouth pulled into a sarcastic smile. "Well, I DO…_some _times." Relaxing her face, she gave him an approving nod. Clearing his throat, he continued to speak. "You are the only one that believes in me in this world right now. Y- you are the reason I haven't lost my power right now. I guess I was curious about who still believes in me, so I suppose I came here." The girl remained quiet and returned his words with concentrated stare. Looking away from her innocent bright eyes, he muttered, "I guess I should say t-thank…you…"

Her face lit up, a wide grin spreading. "You're not half bad as I thought. You will never disappear, Pitch. So don't worry too much. There will always be darkness and fear in every child's heart. It's just the matter of whether can you embrace and acknowledge them."

He looked at her with a start. "What do you mean? Aren't children all about joy and wonder and innocence? How can there be fear and darkness?"

She gave him a melancholy smile. "Just look around you. There are children who their own parents left them. They cannot see through the misty dark fog that covers their eyes. And they are only meager part of the whole. Go around a city into the dark corner alleyways, the children without homes quivering in the cold on the ground. Go to any poor countries and look into the eyes of the children. They will be the same eyes of the children here: the misty dark fog covering their eyes. The truly innocent and wondrous children are very few percentage of the entire world. But even those, once they grow up and hustle along, the concept of innocence becomes only an improbable dream."

He slowly turned around and examined the little children trembling in the cold, grabbing tightly to their frail blankets. One child gripped his pillow, quietly forming a word with shuddering longing. He brought his legs closer to his body, making himself into a little ball. Their eyes never opened. They were shut tight, blocking out the cold reality.

Indifferently, he turned his attention back to Kostusia. "If that is so, why is it that I have been defeated by the Guardian- do you know the Guardians?"

"Yes, I do. You are defeated because no matter how much their eyes are clouded with tears, they are still children. They cling to hope and light more desperately than adults. Even a flash of spark causes fire in their hearts because they are more vulnerable. That is not possible to adults for their minds became enclosed, unable to see beyond what their eyes can see, relying only on reasons and logic, closing their hearts and minds with iron gate, firmly believing that is the intellectual way."

He blinked. Releasing his crossed arms, he put his hand on his chin and his other hand pointed accusingly at her. With a menacing grin, his words slithered into the air, "Well well _well_, aren't you a _smart_ girl? But what makes _you_ so _different _from them?" He flourished his both hands to the other children in the room. "After all, you are in the same pit as them, abandoned by your own parents and left to be in this freezing hell with rotten old woods as your only barrier against the blazing winter wind."

She smiled in return to his words, "My eyes are not clouded." His face fell. "I am not intimidated by your words."

With an inquisitive look, he implored, "Then what was the fear I sensed that came from you? It was the fear of fear itself. Where has that fear gone now?"

She cast her eyes down and started to fidget with her fingers. "Afraid of fear itself…Yes, I guess it can be called like that. I was scared that I would never be able to meet my father again."

He crossed his arms again and cocked his head. "Isn't that the fear of every child in here? Why are you the only one awake right now?"

She lifted her eyes back to him. She crossed her hands on her laps. Her voice became firm and sound. "I know my father is alive. I know who my father is, how he looks like, how he talks, how he moves, how much I mean to him. That is what makes me different from them. That is why my eyes couldn't be shut. I know that my father exists, able to be touched, able to look into his brilliant eyes."

She stood up from her bed and went right in front of him. Cautiously, she reached for his hand. His eyes followed her. Slowly spreading her fingers, she wrapped her hand around his bony finger. Haltingly, her anxious golden eyes lifted up and met with his calm golden eyes. She place her other hand into his palm, squeezing.

"And I was fearful of never seeing him again, of him never coming to me."

He looked at their intertwining hands and gazed back to the girl's pale skin, black hair, and golden eyes. Her eyes shone with so much joy and delight, relief washing over like wave of the sea.

"I see him, but I am not sure if he remembers me. He looks so unsure, confused like a child lost in a deep dark forest. I want to go into the forest, grab his cold forgotten hands, and lead him back out, more than anything in the whole world. But, the child has to find his own path or else he will get lost again."

His calm eyes turned quizzical, almost tormenting. He stared hard at her face again, trying figure out these little riddles formed in her shaky voice. But nothing came up to his mind, nothing but pitch black darkness. He frowned and looked away, gulping in anxiety.

Kostusia pressed on, "My father once was a brilliant man, honored by everyone. But he was never proud; he was a humble and noble man. He had pride in nothing but his beloved daughter, who he loved with all his heart. He would do anything for her. But, his duty was to guard a prison with creatures of darkness that eat away the light. They were sly, cunning, and shrewd. They fooled my father and they devoured his soul and his heart, leaving nothing but a black hole in its place. But human are not weak to succumb to darkness. There still is light, a feeble fire waiting for a match, to be rejoiced and hugged by warmth again."

He pulled his hand away from her grip, his breath pacing faster than ever. His eyes darted all around, searching and digging. _What does she mean?! Why is she telling me all this!?_ He clutched over his heart, gasping for breath. Grabbing his hair in dire frustration, he gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. _A Light, that is what I need to find! Where is the Light?!_

_A girl. She is young, about six or seven years old, wearing a clean white dress, teasing her legs with the wind. She radiates pale light, like a vibrant and lively music drifting in the air, invisible but everywhere. Her black hair flows with the wind. Her shining golden eyes look up and laugh with pure joy and happiness. Her hand holds a little white flower. A soft and calm laughter of a man joins the scene, causing the young girl to smile brighter. A golden butterfly dances and softly lands on the white flower. Her black eyes go wide and with her tiny hand, she points at the butterfly. The girl whispers, "Look daddy, a butterfly on my flower!" A hand appears and pats her head gently. "The butterfly saw your bright smile and wanted to share your happiness, Kostusia."_

Pitch flashed his eyes open. His golden eyes softly radiated light, brightening the darkness that covered his surroundings. His breath slowed, blending into the stillness of the night. He slowly dropped his hands to his side. Carefully, he faced Kostusia. His shaking eyes met the firmed gaze of Kostusia. He kneeled in front of her. He brought his hands to her face tentatively. His deft fingers touched her pale warm skin. He looked at his hand and clenched his hand. Then, his shaking fingers took strands of her black hair in between, smoothly running over them. His eyes went back to hers, almost brimming with tears. His mouth gaped, but no sound came out. Quickly, he embraced her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him, tears pouring into his robe. He sniffed into her clothes. Worn and thin images fled by his eyes: Kostusia sleeping soundly with warm covers, the two strolling around hands held in a sunny day with cool breeze tickling their nose, her brilliant laughing in front of the crackling fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate in her tiny hands, her monotonous face in front of her mother's grave, her heartbreaking cries as he promised to come back, him looking into her picture with weary eyes in front of the cage full of dark evil creatures, and his last desperate glimpse of her picture as Fearlings' whispers and temptations engulfed him whole.

PANG! Pitch broke away from her hug. He folded over on his stomach. His head started to ring, blurring his vision. His eyes lost focus and he started to panic. He gasped out "help, help, please help" between his ragged breath. Kostusia grabbed his hands tightly, trying to meet his fidgeting eyes. Dark shadows ripped and scratched his glowing memories. He closed his eyes desperately, trying in vain to grip at the memories slipping past his bony fingers. The shadows stripped their naked eyes open that was stinging with hollow red fury. Their jagged claws slashed at his memories, plaguing the light with eerie cold darkness. Pitch screamed, yelled, and shrieked for it to stop, let him be alone, to free him of their shackles. The Fearlings only laughed menacingly, destroying faster with absolute delight.

Pitch opened his eyes. He could barely see Kostusia, only her silhouette. He reached out for her, his hands groping at the air. Kostusia grabbed his hand, and put something around his neck. With his other hand, he fumbled around his neck, grabbing the object firmly. The nightmares appeared from the shadows, pinning Pitch to the floor. They harassed him, kicking him and taking out the air in his lungs. He never lost sight of Kostusia. They grabbed and started to drag him into the wall. He clung at the floor, and shouted, "I WILL COME BACK! THIS IS A PROMISE! A PROMISE I WILL KEEP! IT MIGHT TAKE LONG, BUT PLEASE WAIT FOR ME! I WILL COME BACK MY DEAR KOSTUSIA!"

Kostusia burst into tears, and, as she nodded, screamed, "I am always waiting for you daddy!"

Pitch smiled before he was yanked into the shadows, disappearing from her sight. The children woke up found tears rolling down her pale cheek drained of life. Some grumbled and lay back to the bed with the cover over their heads. The others whispered to each other and merely shrugged, eventually lying back to the bed again. She kept on looking at the wall, her shadow trembling with the feeble light. Looking at the window, she saw the Moon was a light, shining down its pale blue rays.

"How long will it take this time?" she whispered, "It was about 800 years this time. Is this your curse upon me? Make me immortal and pain me to wait for this one day, only to be taken away by the dark creation of the universe? What good does it make that I am the Mother Nature if I cannot even help my own father free his soul?" She stared at the Moon, waiting for a reply that never came. She softly laughed, "You tell me about everything except about my father, but I understand. I can wait because I'm immortal. No, I will wait because he is my father. Moreover…" She looked up at the Moon with brightly shining eyes that even the brightest moonlight looked dark. "Moreover, he finally looked at me, touched me…He remembered me!" She smiled.

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Well this is it for now! I planned to make this story only 2 chapters because I don't think I'm really ready for long story just yet. So, the next chapter will be the end, even though I don't know when I will upload it because this chapter took me so long.

I hope you enjoyed my writing! It's my first time putting my work into the public, so it's very nerve wrecking for me (nervous laugh). I tried to make my writing into third person objective point of view instead of the usual omniscient point of view. That's mostly the reason why my writing is so long and dragged on, because I need to describe almost every little behavior a character does and every little thing of the character's background. I guess I'm trying to achieve telling a movie in words, if that makes sense.

Sorry for my drabbling. Please comment about what you think about my writing (It would really help me with my next chapter and my future stories!) Thank you to all who read my story!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi! Thank you, The Lonely God, The Bloodless, Mockingjay098, and all the other readers for reading my story! I was worried that people wouldn't like my sarcastic and dark tone. I told before that I would end the story with this chapter, but I realized that my plot became really redundant sort of (though necessary I think for Pitch). So I decided to break the "original plan" into several parts instead of boring the readers. I forgot in my first chapter, but The Rise of the Guardians does not belong to me! (even I think that's rather obvious, but oh well)

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Pith woke up with a start. He was back in his cave. Like the time when he came back after his defeat from the Guardians, he was sprawled on the cold floor. He did not know how much time has passed since…since what? He couldn't remember what exactly happened. His mind was covered with a thick fog where even the strongest light would reflect and blind itself. All he remembered was that he in an old wrecked building, then all of sudden he was engulfed in darkness.

Shaking his head, he rose up and saw the crack on the ceiling. There was no moonlight tonight, only darkness. Sighing deeply, he put his hand on his chest.

He whispered, "What is this _emptiness_ that I feel? I feel like a bell without its clapper, a hollow sound ringing through the void air. Usually after a battle with the Guardians, I was only tired and angery, but today, this time, I feel so much..._different_… What happened to make me like this?"

He looked back up at the dark ceiling. The Moon was still not there. He vaguely remembered talking with the Moon, but it was only a silent image. He furrowed his forehead, trying to remember the conversation. Muffled and quiet words crept up in his mind: Who are you? His eyes grew wide and a small smile formed.

"Of course! That's what he always asked me! Have I finally found out the answer? If I did, why can't I remember _anything_? I searched for the answer for so many centuries, but just like that I simply forget? No, something must have happened, something _big_ that made me forget the answer!"

He paced, his shadow dancing across the floor. With a loud groan, he collapsed on his black throne made out of the black sand. Jerking his head back, he put his hand over his eyes with a deep sigh. He kept on murmuring "what" until it became a laggard drone, spreading through his cave and his blank mind. Suddenly, the drone became silent. The silence rang in the cave, making the nightmares to shift uncomfortably. They sneaked up to Pitch, and whined. One came and nuzzled its nose against his hand. Spread his fingers over his face a little, his golden eyes pierced through his fingers. The nightmare whimpered and drew its muzzle back. Scoffing, he absent mindedly patted the nightmare.

"Was there some of kind of a hint? I couldn't have figured out the answer just with that question. _Centuries_ passed but I _still_ wasn't able to answer it. So, what was it? What was the _clue_ that made me realize the answer?"

His hand suddenly froze. The nightmare looked up and touched the hand that was patting. Ignoring the nightmare, he stood up and with a faint smile, he chuckled, "You never lose your power. That is what the Moon told me, that is the hint!" Then, his face slowly fell with a dawning confusion. "But, what sort of hint is that? It is just leading me to another dead end! Maybe I'm not thinking hard enough. It was this hint that must have led me to somewhere!"

He started to pace again, his fingers pressing on his temple. "'You never lose your power'? What does he mean by that? 'You never lose your power'. Well, I do still have my power right now, but so what? I always have my power. Of course I do! I am the King of Nightmares! Everyone believes in me, that's why my powers exist! Wait-!"

He eyes grew wide. His hands closed into victorious fists. His words quickly tumbled out, "That's it! My power is based on belief of the people! That means right now-"

A deafening ring pierced his ears and cut through his train of thoughts. With a short cry, he kneeled on the floor, putting his hands over his ears. His eyes shut in pain. The ringing echoed through his head constantly, knocking his consciousness. He gritted his teeth. Behind the cacophonous ringing, he heard malicious voices whispering. Forcing his eyes to open, he saw that he was no longer in his cave but in a void of black darkness. The void swirled around him in a hypnotizing and sickening circle. Deliberately, diabolical red eyes opened all around him. He choked on the stale air when he saw the eyes, full of morbid interest in him. His eyes rolled into his head. His body went limp and fell deep into the dark void. Murky vines coiled out from the side, catching Pitch from his fall. The vines slipped and pierced through his body. Charcoal ink oozed put of him, dripping to the endless bottom of the void.

_ (High-pitched crackling voice) "I say we kill him now!"_

_ (Trembling and timid voice) "But where will we go from then?"_

_ "We are the __**Fearlings**__! We can go into another body! There are __**thousands**__ of us! One human being is no match against us! Those things are such stupid and miniscule **f**__**ools**__ after all."_

_ (A big booming voice) "No."_

_ (Startled, the high-pitched voice) "What do you mean by '__**No**__'? He is starting to free himself of us. It will not be long before he chases us out of his body. We have been in his body for much too long. Our only survival-"_

_ "No."_

_ "Our only survival is to go into another body. We can devour the soul of the another human being. It will also make us stronger."_

_ "No."_

_ "Well, care to __**explain,**__ smartass, instead of just saying 'no' to everything I say?"_

_ "There is __**no**__ purer soul than his feast on. Furthermore, his existence is a lonely one. It will not be long before his mind breaks down and succumbs to our desires. He will eventually destroy himself, making him all more vulnerable."_

_ "Humph. We will see who's right."_

_ "…"_

The swirling void peeled off layer by layer, until Pitch was lying on the cold floor of his dark cave. The black ink oozed from his body, becoming a dark pool of shadow. But, the ink did not last long and soon dissipated into the thin air.

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I hope you liked this chapter! There will be more chapters, basically following the same format as this chapter (this is a future warning in case you get bored by my repeating pattern). Please comment on my writing if you don't like some of the parts! Thanks XD


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Surprise! Two chapters in one da...night I guess I should say. Like I said before, I decided to break up the one chapter into several chapters while I was writing the story when I was well into it already, so that explains why I was able to publish two chapters.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own The Rise of the Guardians. The wonderful and talented people of the Dreamworks Animation owns it :)

The story takes after several days of Chapter 2

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Pitch slowly lifted his eyelids, revealing his golden eyes void of emotion. He groaned as he sat up on the cold floor. He ran his long fingers through his hair, smoothing them out. His cave was as usual, shadows dancing across the floor in an eerie light. The crack in the ceiling was still there, but the Moon refused to show itself, covering itself with the thick clouds. He eyed the Moon wearily, but nothing changed. Standing up, he walked across his cave, feeling the smooth cold surface. He put his fingers on his temples and slightly shook his head. His head was ringing violently. He was ready to puke and empty his organs if the chances were given. Despite the turmoil inside of him, he maintained his deadly calmness, keeping a straight face.

"Hm… Have this happened to me before? What an odd feeling…" he mumbled. "Why was I lying down on the ground for no reason? And what is this headache?"

He feebly blundered to his throne, slacking down. He opened his mouth, but quickly covered it with his hands. His eyes went bulging, ready to pop out of his head. Leaning over, he threw up. The coarse sound of his struggle rung thought the cave, making a grand entrance. Wiping his mouth with his shaking hands, he gasped for air. Hanging weakly to the armrest, he closed his fatigue eyes.

His voice was rough and his syllables slurred, "Why… Why am I feeling so weak? The battle with the Guardians never made me like this before, so it couldn't have been the recent battle with them. Then what was it? My head hurts so much that I can't even speak properly, like a drunken man. Damn…"

He put his hand over his eyes, only to raise them again. He weary eyes slowly moved across his cave, the cave he has been living in for centuries that time became meaningless. It was such a familiar sight for him, but his eyes scrutinized over even the darkest corner.

"What happened? The place seems so unmaintained… Not even a single dust has been touched… How long have I passed out? Or is it how many _times_ that I have passed out?"

In his head, a certain image popped up. He was a rag doll with black ink spilling out, a coarse vine sticking through him. All around was black void, plastered with demonic red eyes staring at his limp body. The image flew to another image of a young girl with the same black hair and golden eyes as his. She wore a white dress that twinkled like a freshly fallen snow, even having the same kind of loneliness and comfort.

His trains of thoughts were interrupted by a deafening headache. He gritted his teeth, mentally shouting to get a grip of himself. As the ringing of his mind grew, he realized the reason for his odd feeling when he first woke up: déjà vu. He woke up before at the same spot without being able to remember what happened. WHAT HAPPENED?! He growled and bellowed like a beast before he was engulfed in the same kind of darkness as the image he briefly remembered. The red eyes stared down on him again.

"WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Only a shrill silence reverberated through the darkness. He stood up and faced one of the thousand eyes. Pointing at it, he snarled, "Your defiance to answer will not prevent me from anything. No matter how much you repeat this, I _will_ find out whatever you things are stopping me from. Once I find it out, _you will no longer exist_! I will-!"

"I want you to shut up, you worthless thing."

The same black vine pierced through him. He choked as the black ink from inside of him crept up through his throat. The ink oozed out of his mouth and slowly travelled up to his nose, drowning him in the intoxicating perfume. Then, it crawled up to his eyes, slithering over his golden pupil. His eyes grew wide in terror, only to be covered in the claws of the ink. His scream of pain only gurgled in the ink. His hands strangled his own neck in futile attempt to end the pain. His feet twitched like a mad tap dancing clown. It fell into silence when the vine twitched further into his body.

_"I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM!"_

_ "Patience."_

_ "BAH! PATIENCE?! THE HELL WITH PATIENCE! We don't need to be patient! We-!"_

_ "He will bring his own end soon enough. The more he attempts, the more he kills himself."_

_ "Humph. But the more we attack him, our power __**also**__ gets weaker. Did you not see the black ink disappearing once it had contact with the external world?"_

_ "You overestimate him. The weakling will fall to his doom before our influence grows weak."_

_ "How can you be __**so **__sure?"_

_ "We have dwelled in his body __**too long**__ for him to truly resist us. We __**became**__ part of him. Unless he kills himself, our root will __**never**__ be able to be pulled out. __**We are the**_** Fearlings**_ afterall, even though it is highly against my will to agree with you."_

_ "Oh shut up. I'm only following you because we cannot be separated."_

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That's it! I hope you enjoyed! The pace is slow, yes I know. But it will catch up...soon... I personally like dark themes like our Mr. Poe, so I might actually become really elaborate on the next chapter, causing it to be longer than necessary (Hint for the next chapter!) Anyway thanx for reading!


	4. Fin

Sorry it took so long! I first had writer's block thing and then I just had my midterm exam. Now that the midterm is over, I wrote the finale to this story! I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. I also do not own the picture. The picture is by Phobs in Deviant Art, titled Love with all My Heart (Book Spoiler Alert).

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The shadows dispersed into the thin air, leaving Pitch on the cold floor again. The black ink smeared into the floor and scattered into the air, leaving his body forever. The nightmares stole each other looks, shuffling on their agitated feet. One took cautious steps toward Pitch, reaching an arm's length from him.

Pitch's eyes snapped open. He stood up with fierce dry coughs that shook his entire body. He eyed his chair, but turned his back towards it. He slide across the floor and faced a random wall. With a swipe of his hand, black sand aroused from the ground. It crawled against the wall and formed a rectangular shape. The sand smoothed out until it became a flawless shining mirror.

Pitch gazed into the mirror, but saw another man in front of him. The man was not recognizable. The golden eyes were clouded with blue hue, enveloping the eyes with cold fury. The man was frowning and his lips were downcast.

_Why am I mad?_

He looked back to where he woke up from. He brushed his chest with his hand, feeling the fabric that was cold from the ground. Even though his eyes could not see it, he felt another presence at the area, like dark eerie droplets of ink. His mind was clouded like his eyes for reasons he did not understand. The battle with the Guardians could not have made him like this. He was used to, no, he _knew_ that he was going to lose anyway. So what made him so angry?

His gaze returned back to the invisible black ink. An image briefly flashed before his eyes: a man covered in black ink, as if a rag doll that was filled with black ink that has been punctured by an angry child. It was so fast and faint that Pitch couldn't even figure out what he exactly saw, just a black man with black ink oozing out. His focus returned back to his cave. Slowly facing the mirror again, he slightly cocked his head and murmured, "I wonder…".

The black sand twisted from the ground. Soon, his hand held a menacing shiny black knife. He twirled the knife around. His face was absolutely calm, almost disinterested. Then, with a slash, he cut his wrist. A cry escaped from his mouth in the sudden sting of pain. He collapsed on the floor, feeling weak. The knife clang to the floor, but his mouth curled upwards. The image became clearer to him. Surrounding the black man, there were hungry red eyes staring at the man, ready to devour if the chance was given. The detail of the man still remained hazy. He lifted up the cut wrist and marveled at it. The black ink was dripping out from the cut. A single drop of ink fell to the floor and slowly evaporated.

With a sly smile, he twisted his wrist so that the ink would keep on dropping on the floor and disappear from the world. The image became clearer with every drop until Pitch was able to see the detail of the man. The face was unrecognizable due to the thick layers of the black ink, but the hairstyle and the robe was too familiar for him not to notice. The eyes still remained a question, but there was no doubt they would like nothing more but to get rid of him.

His mouth cracked a smile, his eyes gleaming with darkness. "Not so easily my friend."

He grabbed the knife on the floor and slashed at his wrist again. He shut his eyes in pain, but his eyes shined brighter when he saw the dark ink. He pierced the knife into the cut, twisting and turning into the wound. His eyes remained open while cries of pain left his mouth. The black ink covered his forearm now, dripping slowly.

He looked expectantly into his mind, waiting for something to come up. But only pain rose up, crashing into his brain. He closed his eyes desperately. His eyes opened. They were blazing with red anger. His jaws were clenched tight, teeth gritting against each other. _So this is why I am angry._

He bellowed, "WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING ELSE?! WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG?!"

From across the room, he saw himself from the mirror. A weak man was trembling on the floor with wide alarmed eyes. His hand, holding the knife, was shaking. Pitch's eyes turned to stone. His face became distorted with hatred. His eyes became tormented with loathe. He threw up.

He whispered, "No, it is not what I have done, but I." He voice rose bigger, "It was me, myself that have been wrong all this time." He started to bellow, "IT IS ME, A WEAKLING WHO CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER ABOUT HIMSELF! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT THAT HESTIANT FACE, A PIECE OF TRASH, A COWARD!"

He looked down at his wrist. His eyes shined dark and deranged. He caught his breath and mumbled, "But there is a way to fix that." He put his left hand on the ground. His right hand rose high with the knife firmly planted. His eyes enlarged and he drove the knife into his left hand. A sickening crack echoed throughout the cave. Instead of a painful cry, twisted hysterical laugh came. He drove the knife again and again. Flashes of images passed his eyes with each drive. He drove harder and harder until his hand was distorted. He lifted up his hand, and turned it around. The shadows were crept up and slowly started to mend his hand. He recoiled from the shadow with disgust. Turning his gaze from the crippling shadow, he looked at the knife. With a thrust, he plunged the knife into his arm. A voice teased his ears, "_It will not be long before his mind breaks down and succumbs to our desires._"

He gritted his teeth, "I SHALL BE THE ONE TO DESTORY MYSELF WITH MY **OWN** WILL!"

He mercilessly drove the knife into his heart. The black ink flooded out of him, cascades after cascades. His eyes gleamed hysterically. He stood up and shakily walked to the mirror. Without looking back, he crashed his head into the mirror. It shattered, plunging shards of broken glass all over him. His legs gave way and he collapsed, leaning heavily on the wall. The broken shards crushed with dull yet sickening resonance.

Pitch's eyes were barely open. His laggard breath barely came out. His unfocused eyes watched the ceiling as the black ink dispersed around him. The eyelids slowly came down.

Vivid images each presented itself, shining with patience. In one, there was a girl. She was young, about six or seven years old, wearing a clean white dress. Her black hair flowed with the wind. Her shining golden eyes looked up and laughed with pure joy and happiness. In her hand held a little white flower. A golden butterfly danced and softly landed on the white flower. Her black eyes went wide and with her tiny hands, she pointed at the butterfly. The girl whispered something, but Pitch couldn't hear it. Then, a hand appeared and patted her head gently. Streams of images flew past of the same girl. She was sleeping soundly with warm covers. She and another tall man were strolling around, hands held, in a sunny day with cool breeze. She was laughing in front of the blazing fireplace with a hot cup of hot chocolate in her tiny hands. Then, he saw himself talking with the same girl on an old worn bed in a frail room. Her melancholy face elapsed with her monotonous face in front of her mother's grave, her face as _he_ promised to come back.

Pitch opened his eyes. His hoarse voice called out longingly, "Kostusia."

His shaking legs bristled as he stood up. With his fist clenched tight, he looked right up the crack. The Moon was there to greet him. Pitch gave a slight nod. From the shadows, the nightmares appeared forward with their golden eyes shining dangerously. Pitch raised his hand and calmly cast his piercing eyes at the nightmares. His hand fell. The nightmares crushed with his hand, their sharp yelps pulverized into black dust.

"I will no longer be controlled by the Fearlings or their creation. My soul is so weary, but my heart is beating like never before."

His words lingered in the cave when he disappeared into his own shadow. He reappeared in front of the orphanage "The Home for Orphans of Cotswold". Stumbling and dragging his leg, he slipped through the cracks of the wall and into the orphanage. He eyes were focused only straight ahead. He wasn't sure of where he was going, but he let his feet take him wherever it went. It slowed down and stopped in front of a shabby wooden door. The doorknob was crushed and scratched all over. He slowly let his fingers curl around it and silently pushed open.

The scene inside of the room was familiar but alien at the side time. He gulped once and his golden eyes slowly scanned the room. It caught a girl sitting on a frayed and ragged bed with wan blanket kicked to its side. The girl was fumbling with worn-out flashlight. A smile crept up his face. The door closed with a soft creak. The girl's golden eyes flashed up and met Pitch's weary golden eyes. Silence elapsed between the two.

Pitch walked quietly toward her. He kneeled in front of her, meeting her eye level. With a feeble smile, he asked, "Do you know who I am?"

The girl nodded, "Pitch. Pitch Black. The King of Nightmares."

His eyes and mouth slightly drooped. He cast his eyes down and sighed, "Yes. Yes, I guess I can be called like that since I haven't fully regained myself yet."

The girl's eyes widened. With a gasp, her trembling voice whispered, "Do you know who I am?"

His eyes flashed back to hers. His hands reached out, but stopped hesitantly. The fingers curled back.

"Kostusia. Kostusia Pitchiner."

Her mouth gaped and she gasped. Bringing both of her hand to her mouth, she mumbled with the same shaky voice, "Do you know who you are?"

"I am Kozmotis Pitchiner. And you are my only daughter."

She let out a squeak. Tears brimmed at her pure golden eyes. Her hands sprang out and grabbed at his shy hand. Putting her cheek on it, she rubbed her hand against his rugged and beaten hands. With large shocked eyes and desperate "oh", she picked at the glass shards stuck in him. Her hands trembled as each bloodied glass shards came out and tossed to the ground. Pitchiner's eyes followed her every movement lovingly. He put his calm and strong hands on her hand. Tears flooded and ran down her pale cheek.

"My dear Kostusia," he ran his hand along her cheek, "I am so sorry…for everything."

She wailed, "You don't need to be sorry daddy. I'm just glad I can hug you again."

Kneeling, she grabbed his hands again and closed her eyes. She murmured quietly like a soft wind in the night. As she spoke, the floor began to light softly. Her pleasant and warm whispers continued. Kozmotis, finally calm and relaxed, slowly closed his eyes too and leaned his forehead against hers. Her mouth wrinkled into a smile as she continued her prayer. Lights started to blush out from beneath them, slowly radiating and wrapping them in warmth and light. Warm spring soil and moss grew out from the cold wooden floor. Little daisies and lilies sprang out, chiming with the cool breeze. Magnificent tress sprouted up quickly, like watching a fast forwarded video. Soon, they were surrounded by wild and gentle nature, streaming with vibrant life. The light reflected and shined over every fresh droplet.

_"NO! THE LIGHTS! IT'S-IT'S TOO STRONG! UNBEARABLE! IT'S DESTORYING US!"_

Kozmotis recoiled back, grasping over his heart. He gasped out loud, his eyes bulging wide. He shuddered. His mouth gaped open and made retching sound. Kostusia's eyebrows furrowed. She sat down next to him and held his hands.

"Dad…"

Kozmotis looked into her golden eyes. Searching into the liquid smooth depth, he found comfort and courage. A home, finally somewhere he truly belonged. A tiny smile formed on his lips. He squeezed her hands briefly. Looking straight into her eyes again, he rasped,

"You cannot defeat me. I always had light beside me. And I will keep that light, forever in my heart."

A shrill moan escaped his mouth. Dark black gas flowed out of his mouth and eyes. The gas furiously recoiled from the light surrounding them. It sped through trying to escape, but only finding endless tunnel of light trapping them. The moan grew louder and louder as the gas became perceptibly feeble, dissipating bit by bit into the white light. Final droplets of gas escaped Kozmotis. His eyes regained focus to the warmth. His undead grey tainted skin was peeling off, revealing a healthy and animated tone. His black robe swirled around and changed with the light. The robe trapped tiny miniscule flakes of light layers by layers. Golden simple ornamentation decorated his now beautiful and pure clean white suit. He stretched his arms out, seeing that the suit fit him perfectly, made only for him. His bare feet tapped lightly, feeling the soft moss. He was finally able to feel the ground, no longer hindered by the dark shadows that covered his body before.

He crouched down and looked expectantly at her eyes. He asked with his voice shaking slightly, "How do I look?"

She gave a bright peal of laughter and raised both of her thumbs up. "You look just like you."

He chuckled and stood up. Holding her hands, they walked side by side slowly into the light. She looked up at him and grinned, "Now we can make up the time we didn't spend together! You and I, we will always be with each other. Time has no meaning. Right dad?" He ruffled her hair playfully and answered, "Right. Forever, dear."

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So~~ this is it! Thank you all for reading this story! I hoped it was fun to read and satisfied you! I'll be back with other stories! Soon...I hope hahaha I'll have to wait and see. Until then, many thanks to you all~! :D


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